Windows of Spring Grass
by ScribeOfRhapsody
Summary: After eight years of darkness, Ignis is a pillar of strength for those around him, but even he has his bad days. Luckily, he has someone he can lean on too.


**I'm on a roll, guys! Anyway, this fic is connected to the other one I just posted a couple days ago. You don't have to read that one, though. Or do. Because it would be nice. *shifty eyes* Whatever works for you! XD**

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Aranea strolled through Lestallum with her head high. It was that time of year again. Two weeks until the eighth anniversary of the sun disappearing, and that meant two more weeks of people moping around with their heads up their asses, hoping for the infallible Chosen King to come save them.

Not her. Like hell she was going to spend the next two weeks doing any kind of sulking, especially after just getting back into town and having her first free day in months. She had an advisor to meet with. _And a surprise for him,_ she thought as she tossed the small bag in her possession from hand to hand.

Even without the sun, people kept to fairly regular schedules, and, given the time, the makeshift training room in the city was likely to have few people in it. Considering that, she was surprised when the door opened in front of her.

"Later, Ignis!" Iris stopped short of running into her. "Oh, hey, Aranea! Welcome back." She held the door.

"Thanks," Aranea returned, giving the other woman a smile. Made sense that it was her. Ignis and Iris had been sparring pals for years, after all. They'd helped each other a lot in the beginning years of darkness when she was getting serious about her training and he was learning to fight with his condition.

With Iris gone, the training room was, as she suspected, vacant except for Ignis. He was dressed informally today – a rarity – in a grey short-sleeved shirt with a towel slung over his shoulders. She smirked at how both the shirt and towel were wet with a fair amount of sweat. Iris really had come a long way. And Aranea certainly wasn't going to complain about the way that shirt was clinging to the advisor's toned arms and chest–

"Finally returned, then?"

Ugh, that tone. Great. The mopes had managed to get him this year. Usually he was immune. Or at least hid it better than everyone else. Well, that was first on the list to do, then. "Damn right." She strolled towards him as he took a seat in one of the chairs around the training area. "You hoping otherwise? Trying to get rid of me?"

"Astrals no."

She stopped in front of him, frowning. Everything about him was _wrong._ The way he was seated with his arms propped on his knees and his back slumped… the way his head was angled towards the floor… It was so _un-Ignis_. This had to be about more than the anniversary.

"What color are Iris' eyes?" His voice was subdued, as though he didn't really want to ask.

"Hm?" What?

"I… can't remember any more."

 _Oh._ Oh, shit.

This was one of _those_ days. They were about as scarce as a real city, but there _were_ times Ignis Scientia needed a day to be as human as everyone he tried to care for. A day to admit to himself that he had problems too.

He'd been so strong about the loss of his sight. Adjusted so well. He hadn't let it stop him for a minute. By the time she'd joined forces with his team, he'd already thrown himself headfirst into trying to work around what he considered a _setback_. From a distance, he seemed entirely composed and accepting of the matter. She'd learned differently, though. As _they_ had developed, so had her ability to pick up the finer details about him.

It was the lack of the little things that got him. Those subtle details that he'd once studied with fervor. She'd learned early on that the best thing she could do was treat him like normal – except for these times. The time he'd opened a book and taken off his gloves to trail his fingers along the pages. The time she'd found him at the outlook, his blank gaze staring in the direction of the meteor. The many times he'd trailed his thumb over her lips to "see" her smile. These times were sacred moments of weakness for him when he _needed_ to be treated differently. Just for a little while.

So instead of hitting with a sassy remark or a joke, she knelt down in front of him, putting the bag in her hand aside on the floor and taking his hands in hers. "Brown. Almost the same as Gladio's. You remember his?"

Ignis nodded faintly after a moment.

"Anyone else?" Aranea pushed gently. Sometime he needed that extra nudge to get out what he really needed to say to find solace.

Ignis' tongue darted out to wet his lips, hesitating. "…The Marshal?"

"Blue." That was vague. There were a million shades of blue. Aranea tried to think of something to match the color of the eyes that were always giving her orders. "Think… the clear skies we used to have."

More hesitation. "Monica?"

That one Aranea had to think on. She didn't spend much time with her. "Hazel." Ignis opened his mouth to speak again, but Aranea beat him to it. Maybe she could keep him from _having_ to ask. "And Cindy and Cid have green, like those gross olives you cook with. And Dave's are greyish-blue. Talcott's are light brown. Mine are–"

"Green. Spring grass. I recall."

Even with the exhaustion in his voice, she could hear the fondness too. The longing.

"You remember mine but not your Marshal's?" _Why?_ He had to have known Cor nearly his whole life. He'd only known her a couple of months, and they hadn't even been close to a couple at the time.

The smallest of smiles pulled at his scarred lips. "I remember noting the similar color to my own. Or… the way mine once were." He squeezed her hands gently, smile faltering. "What do they… _does it_ look like now?"

 _It._ Not _they._ He wore those darkened lenses so much, sometimes she forgot that one of his eyes was eternally shut.

Gently, she released his hands to reach up and tug his glasses from his face. She yanked the glove of her right hand off with her teeth before resting her palm on his cheek. He instantly turned into her touch, albeit only slightly. Ever reserved.

She couldn't lie to him. She'd never do that. But this… wasn't going to be easy to hear. She had to be careful with her wording. "Still green. Lighter… cloudy… like kind of an icy tinge, but… still green."

He said nothing, but after another moment of silence he felt his way down her arm and reclaimed his glasses, pulling away from her touch before putting them back on.

"Hey." Aranea caught his hand back in hers as he adjusted his glasses. "You don't need to hide, you know that."

He brushed her knuckles with his thumb. "I'm not hiding. It simply makes it easier for others if they cannot see the damage."

"Easier for them? Or easier for you?" Lying to himself wouldn't do him any good.

"Both," he admitted.

He needed something. She just didn't know what. She couldn't take his mind entirely off this. Not when it was literally everything he saw. But maybe… maybe she could focus on the things he was still able to enjoy in his condition.

"Hey, so you know I've got the day off, and Gladio just lent me this crappy-ass looking book. I say we head to our spot at the outlook. _And…_ I have a surprise for you that'll make it even better."

"Oh?" He sounded mildly interested. After all, he had told her in the past that her dramatic book readings to him were the best thing to ever come from him losing his vision.

And her surprise would have him more excited than the sun returning. She reached for the bag on the floor, untying the top and bringing it close to his nose.

He leaned closer to sniff the contents of the bag. "You didn't…"

"I _did._ " Even though he couldn't see her grin, she was sure he could hear it.

Ignis grabbed the bag of coffee beans, pressing it even closer to his face. "I have no words for how much I love you right now."

" _You_ have no words? Never thought I'd see the day," she teased.

"Actually, I was speaking to the Ebony."

She swatted him on the arm, causing him to chuckle.

"I don't know how you managed to find these, but thank you, Aranea." His gloved hand traced along her jawline.

"Any time." She cocked her head. "Well… any time I happen to be fighting daemons in an abandoned produce store and some Ebony happens to be there."

He chuckled softly again, slowly pushing to his feet. "So… the outlook, you suggested?"

"You shower, I'll fix the coffee and get the book." Given her background, she was no stranger to sweaty men around her, but _being_ sweaty and then adding Lestallum's heat was a special kind of torture.

"Sounds delightful."

She couldn't fix him. There was nothing to fix. Just an obstacle here and there they could help each other around.


End file.
